


When You Get Here

by Shutupapril



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: First Crush, Kid Fic, Kid!Fic, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:52:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shutupapril/pseuds/Shutupapril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot of things changed when Mikey Way turned 12. For example, his older brother Gerard suddenly started closing himself off and disappearing for days at a time, his best friend Frank ceases talking to him, a crazy man suddenly appears on the corner, and someone begins to leave creepy notes for Mikey and he has no idea what they mean; until the day of a tragic accident and everything falls in to place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Get Here

**Author's Note:**

> (I could've sworn I already wrote this but apparently not) yes the main plot is based off a real book, of course there are differences but thank you Rebecca Stead for the plot idea.

I sat at the coffee table, swinging my feet impatiently, I keep thinking about that letter you asked me to write and I want to write it really badly but I cannot yet find the words to say. Writing to you would be pointless, since you’re gone and there is no one left to give this letter too. But I still want to write it so I can finally process what has happened this past year, so I can reread it whenever I want to, which is never.

I looked at the small shoe box with the missing lid sitting on the table in front of me, there is a postcard in there with a date written on it “Aril 27, 1993” you misspelled the month and I think about that a lot. I think about how I got home from school, I was always the first one home and had to use my house key, I tossed my bag lazily to the floor sending all of my comic books tumbling out.

“Crap.” I muttered, leaning down to scoop them up but something strange caught my eye. A yellowing post card sticking out of my copy of my favorite book. I pulled it out and looked at the jerky hand writing ‘Aril 27, 1993’. I brushed it off and stuck the postcard at the bottom of my bag. Less than three days later, while I was sitting at the kitchen table after school, Mom hung a big calendar on the kitchen wall but it was the calendar for 1993. She used a fat green sharpie to put a star over the date of “April 27” it didn’t bother me none because I didn’t really think about it much, I never made the connection.

“What’s that for?” My older brother, Gerard, asked from the other side of the kitchen table. I didn’t see much of Gerard anymore. Ever since he turned sixteen he fails to come home a lot.

“We’re going on a vacation!” She exclaimed.

“Like an actual vacation or a road trip to grandma’s?” Gerard asked dully. Mom rolled her eyes at him.

“Well my boss needs some help down in Florida for a few days so I decided that my two favorite boys in the world would want to go with me!” She motioned to Gerard and I.

“I’ll pass.” Gerard sighed. Mom sighed even louder as if it was a competition before tossing me a glare.

“What about you, Mikey?” She asked, I just shrugged.

***

Three days later, I accidentally left my keys at school so I was forced to wait outside the apartment until Gerard got home. He smelled like bitter alcohol and sweat. I had been leaning with my back up against the door, a book on my lap.

“Still reading the same damn book?” Gerard teased.

“I’m not _still_ reading it; I’m reading it again.” I corrected. I had probably read this book more than a hundred times. “Unlock the door, it’s chilly.” It was chilly, it was February.

“I don’t have my key, I always count on you having your key dipshit.” He sneered.

I sighed and Gerard sat down beside me.

“Okay,” Gerard sighed “What’s the first line?”

“The first line?”

“Yeah, never judge a book by it’s cover but by the first line.” Gerard snorted. “So what is it?”

I already knew the first line without looking. “It was a dark and stormy night,”

“Classic.” He scoffed. “What is the actual story?”

“It’s about a girl named Meg, her dad goes missing. So, she travels through time and space to save him.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?”

“Sort of.” I answered. “But that isn’t really the point.”

“How old is she?”

“Twelve.” Okay, they never say her age, but I am twelve so she feels twelve to me.

“Oh, of course, plenty of time for a boyfriend.” He laughed. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“Start from what beginning?”

“The story, tell me the story.” So I told him the story, but I didn’t read it, I didn’t need too. I knew the whole thing by heart, starting with the first scene where Meg wakes up at night because she is scared of a thunderstorm. 

By the time mom got there, I had told Gerard the whole story about three times because he kept making me start over, he kept forgetting what we were talking about. Mom sighed loudly like she always does and unlocked the door. Once inside she had to shove her whole body weight against it to close it again, the door to our apartment never locked properly unless doing so. She slipped something from her work bag and in to Gerard’s hands.

“Someone left it in a room.” She told him. Gerard looked down at the action figure. It was most likely one from Doom Patrol, seeing as that was his favorite comic book series. I didn’t take a good look at the small green man.

“Mom, I thought I told you, I’m too old for action figures now!” He whined like a five year old.

“I thought you like Danger Sqaud?” Mom asked.

“Doom Patrol!” Gerard corrected. Mom rolled her eyes. Gerard angrily huffed off to our shared bedroom but it was no surprise later that I walked in on him playing with his dumb action figure on the living room floor. He tried to act like he wasn’t playing with it by setting it on top of the TV and adjusting it awkwardly like he was just trying to fix it instead of reenact a whole scene.

“Why did you sit the hallway? Why didn’t you go downstairs to the Iero’s? Frank is your friend right?” Mom asked me.

“Uh no, Frank is not my friend. He is Gerard’s friend.” I told her.

“What happened to that whole Frankie-and-Mikey-best-friends-forever! Gig y’all had going on?” Mom asked skeptically.

“That was so sixth grade.” I replied.

“That was last year, I don’t see what is wrong with the boy.” Mom scoffed. Frank was my best friend, until he started hanging out with my brother, and Gerard thinks he is _so cool_. All they talked about was rock bands and comic books and excluded me from everything. So no, Frank was no longer my friend.

I thought that having my older brother and my best friend be friends would be cool but I was wrong. Frank and I were playing basketball out in the alley and Gerard had been inside drawing or reading or whatever. Frank threw the ball wrong or something because it bounced back and hit him in the face, causing Frank to sit down on the gravel and cry but the moment Gerard stepped foot in to the alley, Frank stopped crying. And that was the day they met.

“Frank is a backstabber, that is what.” I informed my mom who just rolled her eyes.

Mom looked at me. “Remind me to hide your brother’s spare key in the firehose nozzle.”

You asked me to mention the key if I ever write that dumb letter, which I probably won’t write the letter anyways, but if I did, this would be the story I would tell you.

***

Losing Frank was on a long list of bad things that had happened to me. Somewhere on the top half of that list was the fact I had to walk home alone past the crazy guy on the corner. He started to show up at the beginning of the school year, back when Gerard was a nice brother and walked me home and Frank was still partially my friend and walked home with us as well. 

The kids in the neighborhood called the crazy guy “the kicker” a lot. I can see why, whenever we walk past him, I see him doing the same thing as always. He stands out on the corner of that street and kicks in to the air like he is trying to punt a football then he’d shake his hand in to the air and yell something crazy like,

“As loud as god’s revolver but twice as shiny!” I heard him yell once. He was always on that corner and sometimes he slept with his head under the mailbox.

“Don’t call him the kicker!” Mom scolded Gerard once. “It is awful to be mean to another human being!”

“Even a human being who is insane?” He asked.

“I don’t care, it’s awful!” She scoffed. But that was back when Gerard was actually my older brother and not some stranger sleeping in the same room as me only a few nights a week. The first time Gerard and I crossed paths with the kicker, he was standing on the corner mumbling loudly “bookbox, pocketshoe, bookbox, pocketshoe.” He said it like a chant. Gerard always told me not to look at him and to pretend I didn’t notice him; it’s funny the things a person can pretend not to notice.

Gerard had stopped walking me home from school because he thought it was uncool to be seen walking with his younger brother, he didn’t want to seem uncool. So I walked home all alone and it was late October. Standing down at the bottom of the corner was Frank and his new friends. I recognized a few of them, they were all of Gerard’s friends and they were all intimidating, laughing. When I approached they all got quiet and one of them pointed at me and whispered to Frank. 

Without even hesitating, Frank walked right up to me and punched me across the face. I grabbed the side of my face, feeling the throbbing in my cheek. I wanted to puke. The boys hollered and whistled at Frank, congratulating him as he turned around and walked back towards them. I tried to pull myself together as I quick walked towards home, but I couldn’t hold back the tears much longer and let them drip down my sore face. I walked past the corner with the kicker and he stood straight up when he saw me, his shoulder length black hair entwined with dark silver streaks and a hollowed out face. He gave me a salute.

“Smart kid.” He said and this was enough to freak me out and send me sprinting for home. I told my mom what happened and she immediately called Mrs. Iero who came upstairs so they could have a long serious adult conversation then she left without a word. I didn’t talk to Frank for a long time after that.

Mom basically forced Gerard to walk me home for the week after that.

***

“Ray, why do you think he sleeps with his head under the mailbox?” I asked him. Ray was one of my few friends that actually continued to talk to me after they found out how much cooler my brother was. 

“Maybe so no one steps on his head?” Ray joked. 

“Very funny. What’s a pocket shoe?” I asked.

“An extra shoe you carry in your pocket incase someone steals yours while you sleep with your head under a mailbox.” He kidded around. Ray was twirling several strands of twine around his fingers, Ray always tied knots when he thought about things and he promised to someday show me how to tie knots like he does. 

You asked me to write about Ray, and that’s easy.

***

Going in to eight grade was exciting for me; I was finally in the oldest grade in the middle school and eighth graders were allowed to leave the building for lunch.It’d been two years since Frank punched me in the face so it sort of wigged me out the first day of eighth grade when he walked up to me during lunch.

“Do you want to go out to lunch?” He asked me in a quite voice. I looked up at him.

“I’m sorry, are you talking to me?” I retorted.

“Look man, what happened in 6th grade that was totally stupid. Can we just forget about it?” He asked with a shrug. 

“Only if you tell me why you punched me.” I bargained. Frank sighed and ran a hand through his short black hair.

“I’ll tell you later.” He shrugged. So I smiled and nodded, it felt kind of good to have Frank back in my life. Most of the kids go to McDonalds or Pizza Hut but I remembered how Jimmy’s was always Frank’s favorite and he always ordered a salami on rye. But this time was different.

“I’ll take the vegetarian sub.” He ordered, I sent him a curious glance but he didn’t say anything to me. I ordered my usual. Next to the cash register was a Fred Flinestone piggy bank wit a big red sign on it that read ‘DO NOT TOUCH’. We took our usual seat under the flag of Italy. It was strange at first, I didn’t have much to say, but tell crappy jokes that I learned from Ray. Frank laughed at them all and promised to invite me over for dinner sometime and that I’d love his mom’s veggie burgers. 

***

Frank’s room was the same as it had always been. It was the same size as mine with spongey carpet, a creaky old bed, and a guitar propped up in the corner. Frank was right about his mom’s veggie burgers. Mrs. Iero was very surprised to hear that Frank and I were talking again. He kicked himself back on his bed and I sat cross legged next to him. We made idle chit chat about the past two years until the topic came up.

“So why did you do it?” I asked him. Frank bit his lip.

“You promise not to judge?” He asked.

“I promise.”

“Pink swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

“Ok, don’t get freaked out dude... but I started getting these weird feelings...” He began to explain but I was confused.

“You mean like puberty?” I asked. He shook his head.

“No... like a crush...”

“On Jenna?” I asked him, making a disgusted face.

“No... on your brother.” The room went dad silent as I let it sink in. 

“You like my brother? But?” I stammered.

“I wanted to do anything that would make me look cool and older so I did what his friends said to do... which was punch you.” Frank explained.

“And you just did? Without questioning it?” I clarified, my heart a little broken by the fact he didn’t even think about how that made me feel.

“... I told you, it was stupid.” He explained.

“But you don’t like him anymore, right?” I asked but Frank didn’t answer me, his silence was an answer enough. 

***

I was locked out of my apartment again, I was feeling hopeless when I remembered that mom had put Gerard’s key in the firehose nozzle. I walked to the end of the hall and I must’ve looked like a freak, digging around in a firehose nozzle with my finger but no matter how much I dug, I couldn’t find the damn key. I gave up and went back to slump against the door and pull out the book I’d read a hundred times.Before too long, Gerard was sitting next to me.

“Some people think it’s possible, you know.” He informed.

“What?” I asked. He pointed at my book.

“Time travel. Except those ladies in the beginning of the book lied.” He stated.

“Mrs. Whatsit and Mrs. Which” I corrected him but all he did was shrug. “What do you mean they lied? They never lie!” Gerard shrugged nonchalantly again, he yawned sending the booze smell wafting my way which pissed me off even more. 

“Don’t you remember?” He asked. “They’re traveling through time, right? All over the universe, right? And they promise Meg they will have her back home five minutes before she left but they don’t.”

“How do you know they don’t get Meg home five minutes before she left? Have you ever even read the book?” I sneered.

“You told me the whole story three times that one day, remember?” He reminded me.

“Yeah... but still! There’s no clock or anything! They leave at night, save her dad, and get back in the same night!” I argued, Gerard laughed.

“You don’t need a clock dumbass! Think... at the beginning of the book, the girl is in the vegetable garden-“

“Meg.”

“Yeah whatever. So she walks through this vegetable garden and sits on the stone wall so she can watch over the whole garden, right? And then the ladies show up and take her to save her dad-“

“What’s your point?” I interrupted.

“At the end of the book you said they appear in the garden when they get back home. They land in the broccoli or whatever. But if they had gotten back five minutes before she left, like the lady promised, she would’ve seen them get back before she left!”

I shook my head. “They hadn’t left yet! How could they have already gotten back? they didn’t even know if they would get back!”

“That doesn’t matter! If they land in the broccoli at 8:25 then they were in the broccoli at 8:25 period.” He tried to explain, his words slurring a little bit at the end.

“That makes no sense!” I scoffed. “What if they didn’t make it back in one piece like the ladies promised?”

“Then they wouldn’t have landed in the broccoli at all! But they did!”

“Yes but- the end can’t happen before the middle!”

He smiled “Why not?”

“Because it isn’t common sense!”

“Have you read _relativity_ by Einstein you moron?” 

I glared at him.

“Einstein says common sense is just a habit of thought, how we’re supposed to think about things, but I think common sense just gets in the way!” Gerard excused.

“Gets in the way of what?” I nearly shouted.

“In the way of what is real! It used to be common sense that the world was flat but finally someone had to reject that idea!”

“Well obviously someone did, because it isn’t true!”

“Well _duh._ All I’m saying is that they don’t get back five minutes before they left or they would’ve seen themselves get back-before they left!” I gave up. 

“Maybe it was too dark for them to see themselves get back!” I theorized.

“Well no because then they would’ve heard the dog barking and-“

“Oh my god! Shut up Gerard! You’re too annoying! It’s a damn story that someone made up! Get over it!” I yelled. Gerard shrugged.

“I still think it’s possible, time travel. I’ve read a lot of articles about it.” He said, biting his lip. 

“I thought you didn’t like math?” I asked him.

“This is physics.” He corrected. Ray came over for dinner and it was nice, Gerard sat in his room playing with his action figures while Ray and I sat in the kitchen and he taught me how to tie those knots. He said it was a handy skill I might need in the future.

***

Our apartment door was unlocked when I got home from school at the end of the week. It was more than strange, actually. Leaving the door unlocked had never happened before. Once I was inside I had a sudden moment of anxiety where I felt like I was no longer alone in the apartment. I tossed my backpack on the floor and darted down the steps to Frank’s apartment.

“My door was unlocked.” I told him, Frank was laying on his bed, watching the ceiling. “Isn’t that strange?”

“Yeah, maybe your mom forgot to lock it?” He said, pointing out the obvious. 

“Oh, I guess.” I felt like an idiot.

“Ok, see you later.” He stated and I took that as my cue to leave. Gerard didn’t come home that night but when mom got there I made sure I told her about the door.

“What? I didn’t forget to lock it.” She laughed. “I would never forget that.” She quickly went through the house, double checking to make sure everything was still in its place. In the middle of dinner, something dawned on me.

“Mom, the spare key was gone the other day!” I reminded her. She stood up form the table and without a word, marched down the hall to the firehouse, double checking it before confirming it. The key was in fact gone.

***

I emptied my backpack on my bed.

“Gerard?” I called out.

“What?” He replied from the kitchen.

“Have you seen my book?” I asked him. He leaned in the doorway of the bedroom now, eating a handful of dry cereal.

“Nope. What in the hell is that?” Gerard pointed at the postcard that had fallen out of the bottom of my backpack. The one with the date on it that I had forgotten about from over a year ago. 

“Nothing.” I brushed my brother off and he just shrugged and went back to the kitchen. I unfolded the postcard now, the shaky handwriting was barely legible. 

_Aril 27, 1993_

_M,_

_This is hard. Harder than I expected it to be, but I have been practicing. I ned your help. I am coming. I must ask you a favor. two favors._

_1\. Write me a letter. 2. Please mention the location of your house key in it._

_This trip is difficult but you will understand. I will not be myself when I get there._

 

I was completely freaked. I didn’t tell anyone about what the postcard said. Mom stayed home from work to have the lock on the door changed. I didn’t fully understand, but even then, a tiny bell in my head started ringing, even though I didn’t notice it at first.

***

Frank and I ate lunch every single day at Jimmy’s and we always ordered the same thing. We always took the same seat under the italian flag where we would mock Jimmy’s Fred Flinstone piggy bank. But no matter how much Frank and I talked, we never talked about personal stuff, we stuck to small talk and asking about each others day and the weather but never each others feelings.

Frank and I began to walk home from school together again. He was distancing himself from me quite a bit but at least he was talking to me and not being rude. We walked down the street and passed the kicker who was swinging his foot in to the air like always. He stopped when Frank and I walked by. He turned to gawk at us.

“Angel!” He yelled today, watching us intently.

“Did he just say Angel?” Frank asked.

“He’s crazy, he does that.” I reminded him. But the kicker did something really crazy, he raised his arm and pointed directly at Frank.

“Angel!” He called out again.

“Did he just call me Angel?” Frank asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“No, no. Of course not.” I quickly urged Frank to keep walking and we hurried home. Frank didn’t even say goodbye before turning in to his apartment. I don’t blame him, he was pretty shaken up.

***

About a week after the incident, I found your second note. It was clever placing. It was the week of winter finals and Gerard has asked me to help him with his math, I may have been the younger sibling but he wasn’t too bright when it came to numbers. I thought I could use dry cereal pieces to help Gerard memorize simple equations. Halfway through the box I pulled out another yellowing postcard.

“What’s that?” Gerard asked.

“It’s probably just an ad.” I lied but I already new what it was. I folded it up and stuck it in my pocket when he wasn’t paying attention so I could read it later. 

_M,_

_Your letter must tell the story- the true story. You cannot begin now as most of it has not happened yet. Please write in great detail, for my memory is fading and I need to remember as much as I can. I do not ask this for myself. The trip is very difficult and I can barely remember where to hide these notes. My mind is not sound._

I read the note over and over but I had no idea what any of it meant. Well, I did have an idea of what it meant but I didn’t want to think about it. I was scared, you scared the hell out of me.

“You counting that cereal or memorizing it?” Gerard teased, noticing how I had been staring at the cereal pile for more than a necessary amount of time. The next Friday, I held a note in each hand and read over them. There was a lot of scary parts to your notes. Parts like “I wont be myself when I get there” and “Where is your spare key”. I decided I wanted to keep them safe so I put them in a shoebox and slid it under my bed so Gerard wouldn’t touch it.

***

I went outside to play basket ball with Frank one morning when I heard him dribbling in the alley behind our building. Frank extremely short and not very good at basketball but if it kept him preoccupied, no one was complaining. I’m sure his mom put him up to dribbling out there whenever she got tired of hearing him practice guitar in his room.

“Hey!” I called out, causing Frank to stop in his tracks and he did and awkward head nod to signal he heard me.

“Want to play ball?” He offered.

“I’m no good.” I told him.

“I’m no good either but I’m determined.” He replied.

“Why?”

“Because even though I suck now, I might be better in a few years! I’ll never know unless I try.”

“Or unless you grow a few inches.” I teased. He rolled his eyes at me and I couldn’t help but laugh and then he started laughing too.

“I have a question...” Frank began.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I found a rose on my doorstep last night. Who do you think it was from?” Frank asked. 

I shrugged. “Maybe it was for your mom?”

“No. Definitely not.” Frank said and for some reason this made me laugh. “Maybe it was from Jenna.” He dismissed.

“Yeah maybe, she is a little creepy.” Jenna was this girl in a grade below ours who had a mega obsession over Frank since forever. 

“It seems like she’d follow me home to do that.” He replied.

“Exactly.” Once inside, Frank showed me the rose. It was a perfect rose, like the kind out of movies. All the petals were open and it was a perfect shade of cherry red. I was a little jealous that girls were leaving roses for Frank and not for me but as long as it made Frank happy, I wouldn’t let my jealousy get in the way.

***

One Sunday a month, mom takes a bus down town to jail to talk to the pregnant jail ladies about what to expect after they give birth. They all think mom is some kind of a saint because she always brings juice boxes and bags of chips. One time it was late at night and I laid in bed and I could hear mom yelling at Gerard in the kitchen.

“You’re only 17 and you’re going out partying and getting drunk! And now this? What am I going to do with you Gerard? You could go to jail!” She fussed.

“But I’m staying safe!”

“I hardly call rock concerts and buddy systems with drug addicts safe!” She argued.

“You don’t even know them!” Gerard retorted but I already knew that mom was right about Gerard’s friends.

“They are doping you up! Look at you! You’ve been gone for three days and you come home high on some kind of prescription pill and drunk!” Mom’s yelling was interrupted by her frustrated crying. 

“Well I don’t want to be here!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not like anyone here actually cares about me! Not you! Not Mikey! I have no one except my friends so it doesn’t matter how awful you make them out to be, at least they care!” And that was the end of the argument because Gerard was flinging himself down on his bed in just a minute. The next morning, mom was getting ready to go downtown to the jail.

“It changes them,” she told me. “Jail stops them from becoming who they might want to be.”

“Isn’t that the point? To stop them from becoming criminals?” I asked.

She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. A lot of people make bad mistakes but jail can make them feel like a mistake is all they are. Like they aren’t even people.” She kissed my forehead and told me there was a cold sandwhich in the fridge for lunch and if Gerard woke up before noon that he could go to the deli and ‘buy his own damn lunch since no one cares about him’ she said in a sarcastic tone. 

That night for dinner we had spaghetti and mom was scrubbing hard on the sauce pan when Gerard walked in to the kitchen.

“Mom, you remember that Doom Patrol action figure you gave me?” Gerard reminded her. Mom nodded. “Did you move it? Because it was sitting on top of the TV but it isn’t there anymore.” Mom’s head immediately snapped up.

“I knew we’d been robbed!”

***

It was really cold in February. I had to wear a coat to walk to school, a scarf tied tightly around my neck. Frank wasn’t with me this morning for the first time in a long time. I passed the kicker’s mailbox which he was asleep under. A group of teenage boys, Gerard’s friends to be more specific, were kicking the mailbox and banging on it.

“Wake up kicker!” They yelled and laughed. I racewalked towards the school because the sight bothered me, I felt bad for the kicker but not bad enough to try and break up a group of drug dealing, teenage boys. I stuck my hand deep in the coat pocket and my fingers brushed up against a postcard. I pulled it out of the pocket.

_M,_

_You wanted proof._

_3pm- Frank’s cell phone_

_Groundhog day- Tesser Well_

_April 27- Florida._

 

That was all the note said. I reread it and reread it until my hands got too cold to be out in the open air. I buried them deep in the coat pockets along with the note. The note made no sense, it only freaked me out because it meant you were watching me and I had no idea what you wanted.

I caught up with Frank as we were leaving school at the end of the day.

“I have a question for you.” I began.

“Ok, fire away.” He stated.

“Let’s say I build a time machine,” I paused to see if frank would laugh at this but he didn’t. “And let’s say I decided I wanted to go back to last wednesday and go see a movie while other me was still in school.”

“Ok.”

“I don’t get to last wednesday until I leave, right? Like, I won’t know if I’m going to get there until I actually get there.”

“Right,” He stated. “In your experience, you won’t know if you’re going to get there until after you leave. Unless you see yourself on the street or something. We can go to the movie theatre and ask if you were there.”

“What?” I asked.

“Well what movie theatre are you planning on going to? We can ask the ticket guy if you were there! Then we’ll know if you’re going to get there or not.” Frank said.

“But I haven’t left yet! I haven’t even built the time machine.” I informed him.

“So? It doesn’t matter when you leave, it only matters if you got there or not. Wait! It does matter when you leave, because if it was in like 50 years then he wouldn’t recognize you.” Frank answered confidently.

“What are you talking about?” I questioned.

“If you finished your time machine in 50 years you’d be 63. You climb on to your time machine and go back to wednesday. The ticket guy would see a 63 year old man, right?” Frank informed, I nodded. “So if you went over there today and asked if he saw you there he would say no.”

“No! He wouldn’t have seen me because I haven’t left yet! I won’t leave for another 50 years!” I voiced.

“Well _duh!_ ” A familiar voice said from behind us. I turned to see Gerard, a cigarette hanging from his lips. I didn’t even know he smoked. “It’s not complicated, Mikey.” As soon as Frank saw Gerard he went star struck, he looked like he might explode just from looking at him.

“Think of it this way,” Gerard continued, “Time isn’t a straight line stretching out in front of us. Time is... well time is just a construct actually. All of time is one big sphere filled with moments. Got it?” I nodded. “If you were able to time jump, most likely by teleportation and recreating your atoms elsewhere instead of physically moving yourself... that would be tricky...”

“Get to it Gerard!” I barked. He waved the idea off with his hand.

“Anyways, If you’re at moment A right now and you jump to moment B, it doesn’t whatever moment A was because you are now in moment B. It does not matter what time frame you come from because once you live a moment you cannot unlive it! You are now forever a part of moment B!” He theorized.

“No Gerard! That doesn’t make sense!” I argued.

“I get it...” Frank said dreamily. “And I think it’s really smart.”

“Thank you, I’m glad someone has a brain.” Gerard remarked.

“No I don’t get it because you can’t be in two times-“

Gerard interrupted me. “Stop. That is your problem, you keep thinking of everything as time! Time doesn’t exist it is all moments! All the moments exist at once, all happening right now! If you go back in time you then exist in that moment even if you don’t know it yet!”

“Forget it.” I scoffed. We had gotten back to our apartment building now but Gerard refused to go inside, insisting mom was still mad at him. Frank invited me inside. He dropped his back pack on his bedroom floor and then disappeared in to the bathroom. It was 3pm and your note said 3pm, Frank’s cellphone. On a cue, his cellphone buzzed on the nightstand. Frank was still in the bathroom so I creeped over to it, crossing my fingers he wouldn’t pick the wrong time to return. I clicked on the glowing screen to see it was a text message.

_Gee: U still want to hang out tonite?_

My brother was texting my best friend asking him hang out. Did it tick me off? Hell yeah. It ticked me off enough to grab my bag and walk towards the door but I stopped in my tracks when I heard the phone buzz again.

_Gee: I miss u_

No. The first thought in my mind was no. This was not happening. Gerard was not doing this. This was disgusting and wrong. Frank was only 13 and Gerard was 17 and they were both boys. I’d always thought Gerard was straight. I’d always thought Frank was straight too, but apparently I was out of wack. I mini vomited in my mouth and prayed that wasn’t the case.

_Gee: txt me back asap. I need to tell u something._

“So you know...?” I heard Frank say from the doorway. I turned to look at him. Play it cool.

“Know what?” I asked.

“About...” but Frank trailed off. “Nevermind. Do you want cookies? My mom made some?” He nodded towards the kitchen.

“I’ll pass. Sorry, my mom called and I have to go home.” I tried to excuse but Frank looked disappointed.

“At least take some home with you, it means a lot to her that we are talking again.”

***

I didn’t go home. I went on a walk around the block where I passed the kicker. He sat on the corner looking sad. I did what I thought was the bravest thing at the time. I walked up to him.

“Excuse me, do you want some cookies?” I asked him. Holding the ziploc bag with peanut butter cookies still in them. He looked up at me. He looked familiar... strangely. His cheeks were hollowed out and his black hair was overridden with greys, his eyes were a pale green sinking back in to his face.

“Are they soft? I have bad teeth.” He mumbled.

“Yeah, they’re soft.” I said quietly, handing him the bag.

“What’s the burn scale today?” He asked which confused me.

“Umm, I didn’t check today.” I stated.

“Rain is no protection, they should’ve put up the dome.” He said. 

“Maybe tomorrow.” I tried to comfort. He looked me straight in the eyes.

“He is gone now so do not worry...” He whispered. “Okay?”

“I wont.”

He smiled. “Smart kid.”

***

I told my mom about giving the kicker some foodand she reacted with utter horror.

“Why would you do that Mikey? I thought you could compose yourself better!” Mom shrieked.

“But he was like, sort of normal about it!” I told her.

“Why would you do that?” She asked.

“I thought you would like to hear about me doing good things for other people!” I stated.

“You’re putting yourself in danger!” She stated.

“By giving food to a homeless person?” I shot back. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re the one who works with pregnant jail birds!” I grabbed my dinner and stormed off to my room.

***

That weekend I spent the night with Frank like we used to do when we were really young. We always spent the night in my apartment and Frank left in the middle of the night every single time because of stomaches. We didn’t have an extra bed so Frank had to sleep in Gerard’s bed, he hadn’t been home since his fight with mom, and Frank didn’t mind a bit. He actually seemed like he was inhaling my brother’s scent while he laid there that night and it made my stomach twist. I guess if he was happy then I should be happy too. 

This was the first and only time Frank managed to sleep through the whole night without getting sick. We walked to Jimmy’s for lunch but as soon as we stepped through the door Jimmy confronted us.

“You two aren’t allowed to be in here.” He said.

“What?” I asked.

“You heard me. Get out.” He commanded. “You two stole my piggy bank! The one you two kids are always picking on me for. I know it was you two.” We tried to tell him it wasn’t us but he wouldn’t listen. Frank and I grimly made our way to Pizza Hut but neither of us could think of a single person who’d want to steal that ugly piggy bank.

***

It was ground hog day and I was trying to think about the second “proof” that had been recorded on the note.

“Hey!” Frank yelled, bounding up to me. “I bought you something.” He handed me a hardcover copy of my favorite book ever, the one I had been so hung up on about the broccoli patch.

“Wow thank you, but I already own this.” I said.

“No you don’t!” He assured me. “This is a first edition, open it.” And I did, sure enough on the inside cover it was autographed by the author herself.

_Tesser Well, Mikey!_

_-Madeleine_

“What does tesser mean?” I asked Frank but he just shrugged. When I got home, Gerard was there which was sort of a surprise but it wasn’t like I cared.

“What does tesser mean?” I asked him upon site.

“It means to travel through time.” Gerard answered without batting an eye.

“Why are you having sexual relations with a 13 year old?” I blurted out causing Gerard to choke on his coffee.

“It isn’t like that!” He insisted. “How did you even know?” I shrugged.

“I had a feeling” was all I said before disappearing in to my room and Gerard didn’t come check on me and when mom got home she didn’t check me either. I laid in bed thinking about the “proof”. This wasn’t a game, I realized. I clutched the book in my hands. Someone knew something somehow. I kept thinking about your notes. _I am coming_. Coming from where? _I do not ask this of myself._

***

I was scared and stupid and very mad at mom and Gerard. I wasn’t thinking straight, okay? I woke up in the middle of the night and all I could think about was Frank and Gerard having some secret relationship, Gerard being the worst brother in the world, my mom basically neglecting us, and it made me so angry I cried. I pulled on my jacket and dug through my mom’s purse, taking some money and heading out in to the early April air. I walked down the street and cried and cried and I kept walking until I felt like my legs might give out. I plopped down on the sidewalk and pressed my back to a mailbox and fell asleep.

I had no idea what time it was when I had woken up but no one was on the street, it was late afternoon and some shops were closing. I had slept for a full day it seemed. I found a shop that was still open and bought myself a hot chocolate and a bagel, seeing as I couldn’t feel my arms or legs and my stomach was growling like mad but I couldn’t afford much. After I finished my food I went outside again and walked some more until it began to get really dark out. I turned in to a small alley between two apartment buildings and crashed there for the night.

I hadn’t realized I how long I’d been gone until I ran out of money. I had been gone for 3 days and 4 nights to be exact. I sat, back pressed up against a building, legs pulled in to my chest. I was shivering violently and I was really hungry. I heard a loud rattling muffler and a maroon colored car pulled up on the street and I recognized it almost immeditely.

“Mikey! My baby!” My mom choked out through sobs, jumping out the passenger side of Mrs. Iero’s car. She kneeled down on the dirty sidewalk and threw her arms around me. “Don’t you ever leave me like that again. Ok? Don’t. I can’t lose you.” My mom cried and held me the whole way home. Once inside the small, warm apartment it dawned on me how stupid I was. Gerard was there but he faded in to the background as soon as we got home. Mom let me eat all the spaghetti I wanted too before forcing me to shower and sending me to bed, all the while she was crying and telling me she loved me.

“This is all your fault!” I heard mom yelling at Gerard in the kitchen while I laid in bed. “You’re supposed to be his role model and you went and fucked up!” I heard a mumbled response from Gerard but mom cut him off “No! I don’t want to hear it! You’re a pathetic excuse for an older brother and child!” Moments later the bedroom door open quietly and Gerard tiptoed in. I could hear the strangled sobs escaping his throat.

“Gerard...” I spoke softly.

“Did I wake you?” He asked.

“No.” I whispered. I felt the covers lift up off of me.

“Scoot over.” He whispered and I did. Gerard slid in next to me and pulled the blanket up to his chin. When Gerard and I were younger, we always shared a bed even though he had his own; back when Gerard didn’t mind that he was my older brother and back before I’d ever introduced him and Frank.

“Goodnight.” I whispered. He nodded and just as I was drifting off to sleep I heard Gerard whisper,

“I worried about you.” In the morning I had to go to school even though mom didn’t want me to, I insisted. Gerard offered to walk with me but he didn’t say anything, he just walked with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and watching his shoes. 

“Hey!” Frank called, catching up to us when we were already halfway to school.

“Good morning.” I greeted.

“Gosh it’s so cold!” Frank rubbed his arms because he didn’t have a jacket. “I thought since it was April it would be warmer than this.” He complained.

“Here, take mine.” Gerard offered, slipping off his too large jacket and draping it over Frank’s small shoulders. Small smiled and pulled the front of the jacket closed around him and the jacket seemed to swallow him whole. Gerard gave a sort of sideways small watching Frank disappear inside the envelope of black cloth, his eyes glistening in a way I didn’t see before.

It was then that I realized, Gerard was the one who left the rose for Frank.

***

 A few days after, Gerard and I were with Ray. Gerard was intent on learning how to properly knot a rope. He worked furiously but could never get it right.

“What the hell is that book even about?” Ray asked, pointing to the first edition of _A Wrinkle in Time_ that Frank had bought for me. The one autographed by the author herself.So I told the story to Ray just as I had done Gerard but Ray didn’t interrupt me and he didn’t make me repeat myself a million times. 

“Right so, Aunt Beast’s planet is perfect,” I recited. “It smells great and the food is wonderful and everything is soft. But no matter how much she wants to, Meg can’t stay there. She has to go back in time to save her little brother.”

“She has to go back by herself?” Gerard asked, giving up and throwing the rope down on the table.

“Yeah. She’s the only one who can do it because she’s the closest to her brother. It has to be her.” I answered him.

Ray nodded and I continued telling him the story.

I continued “So she goes back there, to Camazotz, and her brother is totally under the control of IT. And he keeps saying all this bad stuff to her and IT is trying to get her to join him too! But she knows how to defeat IT, with love.”

“That’s deep.” Ray said.

“So Meg stands there and thinks about how much she loves her brother-her real brother, not the one standing in front of her, brainwashed by IT. She just keeps yelling that she loves him and how much she loves him and why and it breaks the spell.”

“Well it’s simple to love someone,” Gerard said “It’s just difficult to know when to say it out loud.”

For some reason that made me want to cry. “Anyways,” I continued “Then they’re home and they land in the broccoli. The end.” Of course I couldn’t help but think about Gerard’s time theory and how they would’ve seen themselves get back before they left. But I didn’t want to drag Ray in to all of that.

“Weirdest thing ever,” Was the next thing to fly out of Ray’s mouth.

“What?” I asked.

“So you know how I work at the pawnshop?” He reminded. 

I nodded.

“Yesterday, the Kicker came in to the shop and gave me a Fred Flinstone piggy bank filled with 2 dollar bills.” There are days when everything changes and we don’t even realize it... this was one of those days.

***

And finally I have reached today. April 27, 1993. I sat at the coffee table, swinging my feet impatiently, I keep thinking about that letter you asked me to write and I want to write it really badly but I cannot yet find the words to say. Writing to you would be pointless, since you’re gone and there is no one left to give this letter too. But I still want to write it so I can finally process what has happened this past year, so I can reread it whenever I want to, which is never.

I looked at the shoe box holding your notes and “clues”. I looked at the notebook pages smeared with black ink from my writing. I had one last important day to write about but I wanted to write it right, I didn’t want to leave out a single detail so I began to make a list of the events that happened.

1\. I was walking home alone.

2\. It was cold but not too cold, there was a group of Gerard’s friends stood at the end of a driveway, throwing potato chips at each other.

3\. Frank’s class must’ve been dismissed early because he was about a block ahead of me but I didn’t feel like running to catch up because he had been in a bad mood when I tried to talk to him at lunch.

4\. As Frank passed the boys they began to whistle at him and call him demeaning names such as “faggot” and “pretty boy”, they’d never called him those things before.

5\. Frank seemed to loose it as he spun to face the boys “Shut up!” He yelled at them. 

6\. The boys began to laugh.

7\. One of them stepped forward and shoved Frank. 

8\. Frank pointed himself towards home and started walking again. 

9\. Gerard picked that exact time to walk out the front door of the house with the laughing boys and Frank turned and looked at him, I could see now the tears that were streaming down Frank’s face.

10\. Frank yelled “I can’t believe you!” and then broke out in to a run down the street.

11\. Gerard yelled “Wait!” and started to run after Frank.

12\. I saw the kicker, standing on the corner, facing us.

13\. Frank kept running, Gerard kept running, I started running after them.

14\. Gerard stopped in his tracks.

15\. “Frank stop!” I screamed. He turned and looked back at me but kept running and ran right out in to the street.

16\. I stopped right next to Gerard because now we both saw it. The big truck barreling down the street.

17\. I could no longer tell who was screaming louder, Gerard or me. 

18\. To Frank it finally registered, he turned to look back at us, like a deer in the headlights, he was right in the path of the truck and it wasn’t stopping.

19\. The only thought in my head was “Frank is going to die.”

20\. FRANK IS GOING TO DIE

21.Suddenly, the kicker leapt out in to the street, his leg flying out in a manly kick like he always practices by himself. 

22\. The kicker kicked Frank with enough force to send Frank flying in to the empty lane, his body hitting the ground hard. 

23\. The truck hit the kicker, his body slammed in to the concrete sending something skidding out of his jacket pocket and to the other side of the street.

24\. Gerard’s eyes were closed the whole time, he dropped to his knees on the sidewalk and began to bawl like a small child. 

25\. I was sprinting, nearly flying down the sidewalk and out in to the street.

26\. The truck had stopped, the driver stood on the sidewalk, calling the police.

27\. I knelt over Frank’s body. “Frank!” I yelled, shaking him. “Frank!”

28\. When the police showed up, they forced me to move away from Frank’s body and a nice lady set me on the curb next to my brother who was still not breathing properly. That’s when I spotted the shoe lying in the gutter next to me.

29\. Everything started to spin, here I was staring at a shoe in a gutter while my best friend could’ve been dead.

30\. I leaned my head back against the cold mailbox the Kicker used to rest his head under. I averted my eyes from the shoe and looked at the four words etched in to the blue painted mailbox.

BOOK-BOX-POCKET-SHOE

31\. “Book, box, pocket, shoe...” I whispered. Then I remembered, the first postcard was in one of my comic books, the second one in the cereal box, the third one in my coat pocket... there should be another note in the shoe.

32\. I reached in to the gutter and pulled out the shoe, sure enough pressed in to the toe of the shoe was a postcard with the same shaky writing.

_M,_

_This is the story I need you to tell me. Tell me everything that has lead up until now. Please deliver it by hand, you will know where to find me. My apologies for bad instructions. The trip is a difficult one._

33\. I heard the crowd that had gather on the street all erupt in to cheering as Frank sat up off the concrete, finally breathing on his own. I shoved the note in to my pocket while the paramedics loaded him in to the ambulance anyways.

34\. I heard Gerard begin crying again next to me “Thank god! It’s a miracle!” 

35\. Frank was not dead, the Kicker saved his life.

36\. You saved Frank’s life.

37\. You were the Kicker.

38\. You were the heap of something awful.

39\. You were dead.

***

“You ready to go to Florida, Frankie?” Mom asked, peering in to the kitchen. I stared down at the list.

“Yeah, in a minute, I’m going to take a walk.” I told her. 

She nodded. “Make it quick.” I walked to the spot where Frank almost died. He ended up breaking a few ribs and getting a minor concussion from hitting the sidewalk but other than that he was ok and back home sooner than we could hope. 

I was trying to find the object the skidded out of the Kickers jacket pocket when he was hit. My eyes grazed over the cement as I walked up and down both sides of the street before I saw it. I crouched down to see a dirty action figure laying in the crease in the road. I picked it up and recognized it immediately. Gerard’s action figure that had been taken from our apartment. I brushed it off and stuck in in my jacket pocket before walking back home. 

I closed the bedroom door behind me and sat on my suitcase, willing myself to think. _The trip is a difficult one, I will not be myself when I get there._ I packed all the stuff back in to the shoebox, now adding the action figure to it. I slid the box under my bed, asking myself why. Why would some man come back in time to save a young kid? To save Frank. That’s why you stood on that corner almost everyday, kicking in to the air like that, you were _practicing._ You knew somehow. And I am still going to write your letter even though you are dead.

The last proof “April 27, 1993” today. I grabbed my suitcase and put it in the back of the taxi we were taking to the airport. Frank darts out of his apartment door to run to the taxi.

“I’m going to miss you!” He says, throwing his arms around me to hug me. Gerard promised to watch the apartment and not throw any parties while we were away for the week. I closed the taxi door behind me, mom waved out the window furiously at Gerard who stood with Frank by his side. The taxi cab pulled away and I looked out the back window one last time to see Gerard slink his arm around Frank shoulders and suddenly, I understood everything.

I realized that when you took our key from the firehose, when you left me the notes, when you took Gerard’s action figure, when you took the piggy bank from Jimmy’s, you had already read my letter. You had read it many times before I had even written it. 

That’s how you knew where the key was without asking, That’s how you knew everything. That’s how you knew I was going to write this letter, the one you asked me to write. 

 _Time travel is possible_ Gerard had theorized. _Common sense is just a name for the way we are used to thinking. Time travel is possible._

You have come to save Frank-I finally understood! _Please deliver this letter by hand, you will know where to find me._ Yes I do know where to find you because you are still here. I still share a bedroom with you and when you read my letter you will realize that you saw yourself arrive before you left. That is what my letter is for.

And then in who knows what year, where there is a burn scale and a dome, you will find a way to come back. You won’t be yourself when you get here but you will get the job done and save Frank. You already have.

***

When we get home a week later, I put all the papers together and staple them at school. On the walk home I stop at the mailbox. I looked around me to double check and make sure no one was watching as I did what would probably be the creepiest thing ever. I laid down on my back and slid my head under the mailbox. I don’t expect to see what I see but folded piece of paper is taped to the top of the mailbox. I peeled it off and slid out so I could unfold it and see what was on it. It looks like some kind of fancy sketching paper, now all yellowed. There’s a pen sketch of a man who appears to be in his thirties. He sits cross legged with a fancy guitar laying next to him. His hair is short and dark, tattoos going up his arms. Something about his round face is familiar. The portrait is signed at the bottom in pen in messy cursive.

Gerard A. Way

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading! This is just a little ficlet I decided write in between my two main stories that I'm working on right now. Please remember to leave your feedback c:  
> Ily,  
> April.


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